


Glass Fingers

by Fangirl_extravenganza32



Series: Glass [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Poetry, Sad Ending, Tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_extravenganza32/pseuds/Fangirl_extravenganza32
Summary: Aaron Burr is know for two things: "Talk less" and "Smile more." But even with his muted personality, his smile is full of misery and pain that is as delicate yet resistant as glass.Alexander Hamilton is know for two things, as well: "Never shuts up" and "Always angry." But his anger started as a small flame that a child would play with, but then the flame then became a sign of the child's insanity and psychopathic nature.Will Alexander's fire burn down Aaron's glass fingers? Or will Aaron's glass fingertips calm Alexander's flame that is his skin?





	Glass Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hamburr fanfic.   
> Some of the words in here are not mine; some are from poetry or songs.
> 
> Credit: Milk and Honey

When Angelica warned him to stop smoking, he thought that she was talking about his health. And she was, almost. She said, "Those things will kill you, Aaron." But Burr only shrugged away that comment as he tapped the ash from the tip of his cigarette into an ashtray on the bar counter and took a sip of his whiskey. And after a while, Burr responded with: "So will stress, my dear Angelica."

Her response to the comment was a rude rolling of eyes, a scoff, and one last bitter response as he made his way to the exit: "No wonder you're so miserable, Aaron. You're too gloomy, talk a little more and smile a little less." Burr didn't show any emotion as he walked through the doors of Schuyler Bar, but the petals of the flower that was his heart slowly lost one.

%%%%%%%%%%

The next night, right before school was about to start, Burr visited his sister at her apartment. He had a talent to smell the tiniest odors in his surroundings; and he sustained this talent in exchange for his words. Sarah's apartment always smelled of the salty air of the New Jersey shore, where they grew up, and had one smell that Burr hates to admit that he actually loves. It was the combination of moist air-- the type that makes your hair frizzy-- after a heavy rain and the smell of his childhood. That smell was the smell of a cloud; the cloud you want to touch when you jump up and down as a child; the smell of spinning around until you drop onto the green grass and look up to the sky to see the puffy white clouds spinning around on the blue sky; the smell of his childhood.

Sarah placed a cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of Burr. "Aaron, honey, when are you going to get married?" asked his sister, showing off her new engagement ring on her slim fingers. Burr eyed it for a second, seeing the diamond shine under the light of the only lamp lighted in the living room. "Uncle Tim and Aunt Gloria are starting to speculate that..." And she didn't have to finish as they both knew what their uncle was thinking; and he wasn't exactly wrong. Sarah then placed a hand on his hand, showing the ring with pride that will slowly drain away, they both that it's true. "Please, Aaron. I'm begging you." He didn't respond and didn't even looked into Sarah's eyes-- she has their mother's eyes. "What am I supposed to tell them?"

After a while, he stood up from her couch that will be thrown out in at least six months or so, and walked to the front door. He turned to face her slightly, "Tell them that I prefer to study." And he stepped outside the apartment and into the fresh, New York City, Autumn air, leaving his coffee untouched. 

%%%%%%%%%

The thing about Burr, is that many people see him as a cold person. Maybe it had to do with his constant smile, it felt gloomy; maybe because he prefer so stay silent; maybe because he prefer to stay silent and see the scene play out in front of him-- maybe many people took this behavior as rude or even as ominous or some even would say in a sociopathic pleasure.

Of course, these are just rumors. Right?

That cold and windy Autumn afternoon, Burr went to the library for a study session with one of his favorite professors, Nathaniel Greene, the only teacher he really did enjoy. But in the middle of the lesson, Burr went and asked for a smoke break. Little did he know that he should have stayed inside the lesson, as this is when he would meet the hurricane. For this was the beginning of the perfect storm.   

%%%%%%%%

The thing that attracted him of this young man was his eyes. They were big and full, emotionally intelligent and exhausted, lovely and attractive, yet so heartbreaking. The young man's hair was a messy mop of dark brown, matching with those eyes; and his frame was delicate and had an almost feminine matter to it, but still full of hunger and greed-- no, it wasn't greed. It was ambition. The few inches exposed from his over-sized sweater, that hung off his frame and covered his palms, was his neck-- just slightly. As his neck was covered by a green scarf that looked as old as his sweater. (Burr had a feeling that the young man bought at a thrift shop.)

But despite the ratty sweater and moth-eaten scarf, the young man had a smile so bright that Burr almost mistaken it for the missing sun in the gray Autumn sky.

The young man's chin had a slight peach fuzz and held himself as if he knew that he was attractive. And all that Burr could do is think: Look at his eyes...

"Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?" the young man chimed with his voice full of passion and a thrill. His eyes shimmer matching with the night sky full of stars, also making Burr's heart beat rapidly against his chest. Making a smile being formed on his lips, not the smile that normally is empty and hollow. But shimmered with exquisite hope and with belief. Belief of what?  you may ask. And in response, Burr doesn't know, not just yet. And he could almost swear that the universe he lives in and that has made a talent to throw hell at him, whispered: Just you wait...

With the smile that made him now quite awkward but still held on to it for politeness, he said, "That depends, who's asking?" His words were smooth, elegant, and polite. Maybe too polite, one may say.

The young man's eyes filled with even more thrill and shimmer so bright. Even more brighter than before; and this left Burr wondering how can someone's eyes shimmer and hold emotion than before? Is that humanly possible? If so, why was Burr so absent to the idea that someone can be so happy that sadness can't even look it's way? Maybe because no one can be happy without a note of sadness swimming in between all that joy, making it a reminder that made himself a point: no one can't be so happy and joyous without struggling the rocky water of sadness. Proving that he hasn't meet a person who can smile as bright as the sun, without having the moon shine it's light on to the same person's skin, watching the person cry under the cruel lamp of moonlight. Forming the conclusion that people are either the sun or the moon. And he will leave that theory to the public, waiting for someone to give him the meaning of the theory. "Oh, sure, sir...I'm Alexander Hamilton." He then hung his head down for a second, a sign of respect, but then wiped his head up, face sparkling and began to cross Burr's 'personal space bubble.' "I'm at your service, sir. I have been looking for you."

Burr subconsciously-- but more instinctual -- took a small step back. Ironic that a small man like this 'Hamilton' can look intimidating and act as if he's tall and big. Burr then gave him a crooked and polite smile, "I'm getting nervous." And he wasn't lying. Hamilton seemed like those people who are a ticking bomb, ready to explode; and Burr didn't know if that was a bad thing or a good thing. And something inside of him wanted to find out what was the 'good' thing. (Wow, Aaron Burr has curiosity!) 

Hamilton took a step back, noticing his mistake and looked somewhat ashamed, and Burr in some way felt responsible for the young man's response. "Oh, sir, I heard your name entering this college. I was seeking an acceleration course of studies. When I got sort of out sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him, it's a blur, sir." Burr let a small smile twitched on his lips at the rhythm but his eyes narrowed when he mention punching someone he may know. "He handles the school's financials?"

Burr sighed, exhausted by the explanation and that he actually does know that man. "You punched the school bursar...?"

"Yes!" Hamilton chimed too cheerfully, making Burr flinch slightly at the sudden answer. "I wanted to join the same classes as you, but I'm too young, and want to graduate in two years. Like you promise to do when to Peter Concord to do, but, sir, are you aware that there is revolution coming? But, this bursar--" Mr. Lexington, Burr thought "--he looked at me as if I was stupid. I'm not stupid!" You made that quite clear, Burr wanted to say, but his polite smile was in the way for any sarcastic comment. "So how do you plan to graduate do fast?"

Burr's smile shifted. "It was my parent's dying wish before they passed." It was clear that many people ask him about this, but his response will always stay the same. When people get their response, they usually gave him their words of pity and walk away with an apology on their lips.

But, those are regular people. It seems that this Alexander Hamilton was not your average person. "You're an orphan, of course! I'm an orphan, too. God, I wish that the revolution would come faster, God, I wish that there was a war! Then we can prove that we're worth more than anyone bargained for!" 

It amazed Aaron that this kid's eyes could shimmer brighter and brighter; with his body shaking with adrenaline that came out of nowhere. "Can I buy you a drink?" Aaron said, seeing if a drink could calm the young man down.

Hamilton's face lit up just like a Christmas tree. "That would be nice." Burr threw this cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and walked to the Schuyler Bar, the young man following behind him with a bright smile. The campus of Liberty Star College buzzed with action, excitement, and revolution. Most of the students were ready to fight the British Power that "King" George was in charge of, and Burr had a feeling that Hamilton was one of them.

"While we're talking, let me offer you some free advice," Burr said as he stopped in front of the wooden door of the bar. "Talk less," he said, holding up his index finger close to the kid's lip, representing the universal sign of silence. The expression of What? was plastered all over his face. "Smile more," another gesture, this time it was his hands raising to represent the corners of a mouth raising for a smile.

He opened the door and walking in with Hamilton following behind him. The bar had different shades of brown, yellow, and orange. The colors of a dreamlike candlelight, like a dream that you can't quite place. Well, Angelica claims. The atmosphere was warm and sweet, just like warm milk and fresh honey. "Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for," he said, waving his finger with every word that left his mouth.

They sat down, Burr ordered their drinks. "You can't be serious," the kid said after a while. Burr didn't look up from his drink for a while, but when he did, he looked directly into Alexander's eyes. A dark brown connecting with another shade of brown. Little did Burr know that this action will make the blueprint of their disaster.

"You wanna get ahead?" Burr asked, wanting the honest answer from this young man. Who looked absolutely complicated, Burr just wants a straight answer. No, this man isn't just complicated; Alexander Hamilton was beautifully, absolutely complicated. And Burr wanted to know why.

Hamilton nodded, "Yes." His brown eyes shimmered with hope but with sadness lurking under them, threating to spill out as tears or as the bag under his eyes turning darker and darker.

Burr took a sip from his drink. "Fools who run their mouths wind up dead."

A loud bag from the middle of the bar. They snapped their head to see three students, incredibly drunk and loud. "Yo yo yo yo yo! What time is it?" said the center one, standing on the table with a beer in his hand. 

"Show time!" cheered other two men,

"Like I said..." Burr mumble, realizing that Angelica was right: smoking will lead him into problems.  


End file.
